


Plus One

by ami_ven



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: writerverse, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2273547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ami_ven/pseuds/ami_ven
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What do you mean, there’s no record of my reservation?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Plus One

**Author's Note:**

> written for LJ community "writerverse" prompt "no vacancy" (1000+ words)

“What do you mean, there’s no record of my reservation?” Rodney demanded.

The young receptionist just looked at him, eyes wide, but John, who was slouching against the desk, drawled, “Well, McKay, it probably means that they don’t have any record of your reservation.”

“Yes, thank you, Colonel Obvious,” Rodney snapped. “But if I don’t have a reservation, then I don’t have a room. And since _someone_ decided to schedule the physics conference during some sort of hippie arts festival—”

“I’m pretty sure that’s a flower show,” John interrupted, but Rodney ignored him.

“—this is the last hotel that has any available rooms. Except that now, it doesn’t.”

“Um, I’m afraid not, sir,” said the receptionist. “All our rooms are booked.”

Rodney sighed. “I’m scheduled to present the keynote speech to the largest gathering of physicists on this planet, and now I have nowhere to sleep!”

“Nah,” said John. He straightened only long enough to lean forward across the counter and hold up his own key-card. “Could you make up another of these? Room three-eleven.”

“Of course, sir,” said the receptionist, looking relieved.

“Sheppard,” hissed Rodney. “What the hell are you doing? You’re _military_ , do you have any idea what this looks like?”

“Like a civilian with the highest security clearance in the US government and a track record of kidnapping attempts had brought along a military escort with enough rank and training to accurately reflect his importance?”

“Oh,” said Rodney. “That’s… surprisingly good thinking, colonel.”

John frowned. “Wasn’t that why you asked me to come to this thing with you?”

“Yes, of course,’ Rodney said, a little too quickly. “But you’re also not entirely stupid, so I thought you might actually enjoy some of this. There’s usually a few presentations about the math involved in solving the secrets of the universe.”

John felt his ears turn pink. “Thanks, McKay,” he drawled, but he was smiling.

“Here you are, sir,” said the receptionist, holding out a key-card. “Enjoy your stay.”

“I’m sure we will,” said John, and hooked a hand under Rodney’s elbow to pull him toward the elevator. 

John’s room wasn’t as luxurious as the one Rodney had booked. It had one large bed, a long dresser, a desk with a wooden chair, a mini-fridge and a TV hanging on the wall. Rodney hefted his suitcase onto the padded window seat and looked around, frowning.

“We’ve stayed in worse places,” John reminded him, and Rodney snorted.

“Not on _purpose_ ,” he said, then yawned. “What time is it?”

“Here?” said John. “About two AM.”

“The conference starts at nine. We should probably get some sleep.”

“Yeah.” John opened his duffel to find his toothbrush. “Don’t forget to hang up your suit.”

“What are you, my mother?” Rodney grumbled, but he hung his garment bag in the closet beside John’s.

By the time John came out of the bathroom, teeth brushed and pajamas on, Rodney had changed, too, and was folding down the sheets on the left side of the bed.

“All yours,” said John.

“Thanks,” Rodney said, absently. Then, he stopped in the bathroom doorway. “Really. Thanks. For, you know.”

“Anytime,” said John, and slid into the right side of the bed. He heard Rodney clattering around the bathroom, saw the overhead light go out, then felt the bed dip as Rodney got in beside him.

John held very still, waiting while Rodney arranged the covers. When he stopped moving, there was still a foot and a half of empty space between them, but then Rodney slowly inched closer, until John could feel the heat of Rodney’s shoulder against his spine. John took a deep breath, feeling Rodney’s warmth seep into him, and was asleep in minutes.

He woke the next morning to sunlight streaming through the blinds they’d forgotten to close, and Rodney pressed tight against his back, snoring softly. For a moment, John closed his eyes and just lay there, feeling. Then, he got up, closed the blinds and went for a run.

Rodney was still asleep when John got back, so John set a cup of coffee on the bedside table and took a shower. By the time he came out, Rodney was sitting up, finished with his cup of coffee and starting on the one John had gotten for himself. John snagged the still-mostly-full cup, ignoring Rodney’s scowl, and replaced it with the box of doughnut holes.

“You can get more coffee at the conference,” John told him. “Which you better get dressed for.”

“This is so not fair,” Rodney muttered, a few minutes later, squinting into the bathroom mirror and trying to straighten his tie.

“What?” said John, absently.

Rodney’s reflection glared at him and gestured vaguely. “You. Colonel Chick Magnet. And I’m…”

John had brought his dress uniform, mostly because wearing a suit reminded him of his dad’s horrible company parties and if he was going to be forced into small talk, he’d feel better about it in uniform. But Rodney in a suit looked nothing like the stuffy businessmen his dad had known. All that off-world exercise had clearly done Rodney good— he might not make the cover of GQ, but the charcoal-gray suit emphasized Rodney’s broad shoulders and blue eyes.

“That’s what I thought,” Rodney mumbled, when John had apparently been quiet for too long.

“No, you look good,” said John, quickly. “You look—” _Amazing, incredible, hot…_ “—good.”

“Oh,” said Rodney. “Really? That’s um, good.”

“Good,” John repeated, smiling, then shook his head. “We’d better get going.”

Rodney fiddled with his tie again, in the mirrored elevator until John elbowed him. “Hey!” the scientist protested. Then, he said, “Thanks. For coming with me. The last time I came to one of these, I brought Jennifer, and as nice as it was to prove that I can get someone hot and smart to give me the time of day… well, I feel a little better with you watching my six, actually.”

John fought a ridiculous smile. “Wouldn’t miss it, buddy,” he drawled, as they entered the lobby of the conference center.

There were a few other people in military uniform— some clearly scientists, having animated discussions with civilians, and some clearly assigned escorts, looking simultaneously alert and completely bored. John stuck with Rodney, trying not to look too embarrassingly pleased when Rodney introduced him as “a decent mathematician, when he wasn’t flying insane aircraft.”

John had to interrupt a few times before Rodney said something potentially harmful— more that he was worried a fight was going to break out than that Rodney would let the whole ‘alien technology’ thing slip— but mostly he spent the morning bringing Rodney tiny plates of tinier food (citrus-free, he’d checked) and half-listening to the science going on around him.

Rodney was right, the math _was_ pretty interesting, even if he didn’t always understand the implications, and he enjoyed the looks on people’s faces when he broke out the college-level questions. It was lunch time before he knew it.

“If you can call this lunch,” Rodney grumbled, even though he’d gone back for seconds. “There are serious scientific discussions going on here— Okay, not _serious_ , because no one here has the clearance to know about the _real_ science. But some of their less-stupid ideas might have sparked something that could be useful.”

John grinned. “Don’t ever change, McKay.”

“What?” said Rodney, then shook his head. “You keep saying that.”

“I—” John began, but was interrupted by an official-looking guy in a suit.

“Dr. McKay?” he said. “The speakers are being asked to wait backstage…”

John followed the rest of the crowd into the small auditorium, and picked a seat near the back. There were two brief speeches before Rodney’s and John only half-listened to them. He heard even less of Rodney’s speech, too distracted watching Rodney’s hands and the curve of his mouth. He only realized that Rodney had finished when people started standing up, gathering into smaller groups, and John wandered over to the one around Rodney.

A few of them just wanted to say hello, or ask a quick question, but one guy, more than slightly overweight and wearing an ill-fitting suit, said, “You know you can’t actually _prove_ any of this, right, McKay? You academics just sit in your ivory towers, but none of what you do ever has any practical applications. Me, on the other hand, I’ve gotten six patents for new chemical compounds in the last five years. What exactly have _you_ accomplished?”

“I’m afraid Dr. McKay’s accomplishments are _highly_ classified,” said John, sliding into Rodney’s personal space with his best fake smile. “But I can tell you that he’s saved my life, more than a few times.”

“From what?” the other scientist laughed. “Paper cuts?”

“Bullets, usually,” John said, still smiling. “Although, the enemy forces can be surprisingly creative. Now, if no one else has any questions, we really should be going. There’s a significant time difference between here and where we’re currently stationed, and it’s been a long day.”

“What?” said Rodney. “Right. Long day. And I have to be back to work the day after tomorrow, doing six improbable things before breakfast and saving everyone’s lives by mid-afternoon.”

“And some days,” John added, “that’s not even an exaggeration. Good night, gentlemen, ladies…”

“You do know it’s only four in the afternoon, right?” said Rodney, as John slid a hand under his elbow. But he didn’t protest or even try to pull away until they were out on the sidewalk, and he fell into step beside John, their shoulders touching.

“So,” Rodney said. “What was that about?”

John shrugged. “Looked like you could use a rescue.”

“Sure,” Rodney agreed. “But you didn’t necessarily need to mention the lives-saving part.”

“What? It’s true.”

“You wanted me to look good in front of the other scientists,” said Rodney, in that tone he used when he knew he was right.

“I—” John began, but Rodney kept talking.

“Wait, _why_ did you want me to look good in front of the other scientists? Because that’s _not_ why I asked you to come with me. Okay, not exactly why. I was maybe hoping that having you along might make me seem a little cooler, by some sort of transitive property but I didn’t want you to think that I _expected_ any kind of—”

“Rodney,” interrupted John, smiling, as they entered the lobby of their hotel. “I didn’t think that. I did it because I wanted to.”

“Seriously?” Rodney asked, turning to face him as the elevator doors closed behind them. “Because nobody has ever—”

John was suddenly very, very sick of all the things that nobody had ever done for Rodney, and he decided to do one thing he’d always wanted to— he kissed Rodney, hard.

Rodney froze for about a quarter of a second before he backed John into the mirrored wall of the elevator, and slid his hands under John’s uniform jacket. Luckily, there wasn’t anyone waiting for the elevator on their floor, because they barely made it back to their room, kicking the door shut behind them and toppling onto the bed.

“ _This_ is why,” said John, breathless, and Rodney practically melted beneath him.

“That’s a very good reason.”

*

It was probably John’s imagination, but Atlantis seemed somehow… brighter than he remembered, when they ‘gated back the next day.

“Colonel, doctor,” said Woolsey, smiling. “How was the conference?”

“Full of morons, as I expected,” said Rodney. Then, he flushed slightly. “But there were, um, good parts. Of the trip.”

“Well, we’re glad to have you back,” said Woolsey. “But meetings wait for no man. If you gentlemen will excuse me…?”

He left, and everyone else in the ‘gate room filtered out, until only Radek was left. “So, Rodney,” Radek said, smiling. “Good trip? How were your accommodations?”

Rodney’s eyes widened in realization. “You little bastard—” he began, but John laughed and caught his hand, “Thanks, Radek.”

THE END


End file.
